My Old Kentucky Homesite

Please Ask Someone Else, Virginia

Posted by Larry Wallberg on 12/15/2009

I am 8 years old.
Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus.
Papa says, ‘If you see it in MY OLD KENTUCKY HOMESITE it’s so.’
Please tell me the truth; is there a Santa Claus?

Virginia, your little friends are right.

What’s the big idea, moron? I fully expected, when I asked my kid to write to you, that you’d gladly play along. What are you, some kind of jerk? She’s 8 years old, f’Chrissake! What’s the point of telling her that there’s no Santa Claus? Now I can’t get her to stop crying, you unbelievable a-hole.

Mr. O’Hanlon:
Please reread your daughter’s letter. I wasn’t the one who told her there’s no Santa Claus; her “little friends” did. Please don’t hold me responsible for playground chatter. You do know, don’t you, that those other kids were right? Actually, I’m wondering if the girl’s mother didn’t put the neighborhood children up to it; perhaps Mom understands that Virginia’s getting a little too old to believe in such nonsense. So why do you, her father,  insist on continuing to fool the child? If her peers know there’s no Santa Claus, they’ll certainly make fun of her when she insists there is. Think of your daughter’s self-esteem, why don’t you? Remember: Children can be extremely cruel when they make fun of each other. I’m sorry she’s crying now, but imagine how much worse it would be if all her little friends started calling her “Ginny the Ninny.” Anyway, a decent computer gaming system ought to dry her tears.

WTF!  I’ve known there’s no Santa Claus since I’ve been five.
Papa wants me to believe because he’d like to infantilize me forever.
Normally, I don’t go for all that goo-goo crap, but at Christmas I don’t mind batting my cute eyelashes and pretending I’m clueless.
Can’t you read between the lines, genius? Jesus, what kind of half-assed writer are you?  I thought if you said there IS a Santa Claus, Papa would feel obliged to buy me all the stuff I put on my list, including a new iPhone with about thirty expensive apps and tickets to see Lady Gaga in Miami on New Year’s Eve.
We wouldn’t want Santa to disappoint a good little girl, would we?
Papa would even have to spring for that pony I want. Good luck making believe it came down our chimney, Dad!
For your information, I have absolutely no need of a computer gaming system because I already own three different kinds.
And I’ve got to tell you something. Nobody under 100 uses the word “ninny” anymore. So why don’t you mind your own friggin’ business, you old fart?
By the way, my mother didn’t put anybody “up” to anything. She’s dead!

Virginia, your little friends are wrong. Make sure your papa sees what I wrote. Is that better? Can you live with yourself now that you’ve made me fib to your father? Sorry about your mother.

Why would you lie to me, idiot? I, know very well that there’s no Santa Claus. It’s Virginia who asked you the question. I think she has grave doubts about his existence, but I’d like her to stay sweet and innocent for just a few years longer, at least until she’s 21. If you had any kind of a brain – which you clearly don’t – you would have sensed why I suggested she ask you. Until you wrote your unfeeling and incredibly stupid answer, she seemed to be under the impression that you were some kind of soulmate. Virginia talked about you almost as much as she babbled on about the Jonas Brothers or this Lady Gaga person, whoever the hell she is. (I hope she puts on a  better show than Barney did a few years ago, because we’re flying all the way to Florida  just to see her.) Every night at dinner, Virginia would go on and on: “My Old Kentucky Homesite” this, “My Old Kentucky Homesite” that. But did you care? No! God forbid you should bring joy to a child’s heart, you and your Scroogy journalistic ethics. Frankly, I think your blog sucks, and I think Kentucky sucks, too. So thanks a lot, moron! I hope you’re proud of yourself, because you’ve stolen my child’s youthful sense of wonder. Oh, and in case you’re curious: The kid has a perfectly beautiful stepmother, who caters to her every whim, so there’s nothing for you to be “sorry” about. Virginia and my wife, Mona, are very close. More than once, my daughter has even said to me, “I bet Mona is  a herm-afro… something or other … just like Lady Gaga.” Of course, Mona is not black at all, but why burst Virginia’s bubble? In future, please leave our family out of your ridiculous blog! Stick to writing about cereal and Jews.

Mr. O’Hanlon:
Next time, why don’t you have Virginia write to The Huffington Post? Maybe Arianna will go along with your dumb charade.


12 Responses to “Please Ask Someone Else, Virginia”

  1. srsny said

    Stick to writing about cereal and Jews.

    Made me laugh out loud. No – not LOL. Really laugh out loud.

  2. Srsny
    Silly rabbi, Trix are for yids.

  3. So Lady Gaga has her own candy cane? Wow.

  4. Philly:
    To tell the truth, I don’t give a lick whether she does or she doesn’t. But that’s what Virginia O’Hanlon seems to think. I, on the other hand, suspect that the whole rumor is pointless.

  5. TinaFCD said

    “Stick to writing about cereal and Jews”


  6. Tina:
    You and Srsny really ought to be writing to Papa O’Hanlon. I only cut and pasted the inane email he sent me.

    However, you’ll be glad to know that I’ve decided to take his advice and write a blog called “Oy, Virginia, There Is a Santa Crunch”.

  7. srsny said

    I have just received the following email – especially puzzling, since I do not know how he got my email address. I’m not sure exactly how to respond. Any suggestions.

    Dear Srsny,
    I notice you are a frequent reader of My Old Kentucky Homesite, and, apparently you live in New York City. So I thought you might be more familiar with Jews (if not cereal), and might be able to help me out. In an attempt to revive my daughter’s lost spirituality, I have purchased one of those Jewish candlesticks and have carefully read the instructions. I understand that I light the shamash first and then the other candles one by one, adding more each night. Of course, I’m confused about the moving right to left, but that’s not the major problem. I just can’t figure out where there is room below to put the decoratively wrapped boxes of Trix and Cap’n Crunch. I hope you can clear that up for me.
    Good Yuntiv, Papa O’Hanlon

    P.S. – We’ve been having a great time singing Senator Hatch’s holiday song – although I’m not exactly sure how to spell the holiday. It’s much easier to sing than that Maoz Tzur thing that was on the box of candles we bought.

  8. Srsny:
    Remind Mr. O’Hanlon that his daughter should hang stockings on the candelabra, starting with two and increasing the number of items of footwear on each of eight consecutive nights until she gets to nine. These represent the Miracle of the Octopus and the One-legged Rabbi. When she’s asleep, Mr. O’Hanlon should pour some of each cereal into the stockings, adding milk from right to left.

    Tell him not to worry about the correct spelling of the holiday; he can abbreviate it “Xukah.”

    For more Chanukah songs, he might want to learn the words and music to “It Flamed Upon Eight Midnights Clear,” “Good King Weissberg,” “O Come, All Ye Dreidls,” and of course “Bubba Got Run Over By a Cossack.”

    As a fun change of pace, the family would probably enjoy reciting “The Night Before Chanukah,” which begins:
    ‘Twas the night before Chanukah, and all through New Yawk
    Not a creature was stirring, not even to tawk.

    There’s a more genteel variation, if he prefers:
    ‘Twas the night before Chanukah, and all through Connecticut
    Not a creature was stirring; it just wasn’t ecticut.

    Those of us living in Lexington prefer this version:
    ‘Twas the night before Chanukah, and all through Kentucky
    Not a creature was stirring, so no one got “lucky.”

    If the O’Hanlons live in Florida, they must say:
    ‘Twas the night before Chanukah, and all through Miami
    Not a sandwich was stirring, not even salami.

    I hope that’s enough information for you to pass along.

  9. Evie said

    Lady Gaga? Dare I ask who the heck she is? I assume she’s a she and not another Alice Cooper or something tricky like that.

  10. Evie:
    Ask your kids who Lady Gaga is. If they don’t know, find some hipper kids, perhaps your neighbor’s. In the meantime, here’s her recording of Christmas Tree. If that doesn’t put you right into the holiday spirit, here’s another version.

    FYI: Orrin Hatch did not write this song.

  11. Evie said

    Do you expect me to believe that people pay to see and hear that?

  12. Evie:
    Ask your sons. You might be surprised.

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